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“No, there isn’t. Is that a problem?” His voice had turned cool, and she noticed the change in tone, glancing up at him with a wry smile.
“Don’t worry, hotshot. Trust me—I am not angling for a wedding ring.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Or even breakfast.”
“I’m not stingy. I’ll buy you coffee.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“And a bagel.”
“Oh, okay then.” She laughed, that dirty, knowing sound that had him hauling her naked body against his.
“That’s better,” he murmured, and then he kissed her. Her mouth was incredibly soft and sweet, and her response so wonderfully uninhibited and yet surprisingly innocent. She kissed with a clumsy enthusiasm he wasn’t used to; his encounters were always with women who knew what they wanted and just how to get it.
A few minutes later they found their way to the bed. An hour later, it was the shower, against the wall, the water beating down on them. And then the sofa. And by dawn they were back in bed again, Louise cuddled up against him as he finally fell asleep.
* * *
Louise ached in all sorts of places she’d forgotten she had. Talk about breaking a dry spell. She’d had more sex in the past eight hours than she’d had in a decade.
And it had been amazing sex. Truly mind-blowing, out of this world, orgasmic sex. Jaiven Rodriguez set her body on fire.
Too bad it was only one night. Although another couple of nights like this one might kill her.
Carefully she eased away from him. It was just before six in the morning and she needed to go. Needed to get back to her normal life.
Maybe sex with Jaiven had been so good because they both knew it wasn’t going anywhere. The lack of an emotional connection had made the physical one more intense.
Maybe.
She slipped from the bed, pausing a moment to look at him; asleep he seemed softer. Gentler, somehow. His thick, dark lashes feathered his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted.
She dropped her gaze a little lower and examined the tattoo on his neck. She’d licked it at some point that evening, when her inhibitions had well and truly scattered. Now she saw it was comprised of several swirls, with three dots in the center. She wondered if it had any meaning, and knew she would never know him well enough to ask.
What kind of man was he, anyway? Clearly one who didn’t go for relationships, but had had a lot of sex. One who was successful, because she knew from her quick internet search that he’d built JR Shipping from nothing.
But beyond those elementary facts, she had no real knowledge or understanding of the man she’d just been incredibly intimate with.
The realization made her sad, although she couldn’t have even said why. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for casual sex. Perhaps that was why she’d married Jack even though on some level she must have known he wasn’t husband material.
Just like Jaiven Rodgriguez wasn’t husband material.
Her mouth twitched in a smile even as a sigh escaped her. Not that she would harbor such romantic fantasies for this man even for a millisecond. She wasn’t quite that stupid.
But she knew she needed to leave before he awoke and made love to her again, because she was just needy enough to confuse sex with love even though on every analytical level she knew what a ridiculous mistake that was. She was a professor of Women’s Studies, for heaven’s sake. In her Introduction to Feminist Studies lecture she talked about women reclaiming their bodies.
Well, maybe she’d reclaimed hers tonight. Walked the talk.
And now it was over.
Another little sigh escaped her as she slid out of bed. She gathered her clothes quickly and dressed in the living room before she quietly opened the door to the suite and stepped out into the hallway of the hotel. It was the kind of upscale place that still seemed seedy, or maybe she just felt that way. She’d never sneaked out of a hotel room at dawn in the clothes she’d worn the night before.
Chalk it up to a new experience, and not a particularly pleasant one. Her hair was a mess and she had a terrible taste in her mouth. And all that pleasure was trickling into embarrassment and guilt.
Time to go home, she told herself as she buttoned up her coat and began walking briskly toward the elevator. Time to go back to real life and forget Jaiven Rodriguez had ever existed.
As if.
Chapter Three
IT HAD BEEN three days since Louise Jensen had crept out of his bed at dawn, and he was still annoyed. Jaiven spun around in his chair in his penthouse office at JR Shipping’s headquarters in the Bronx and let out an impatient sigh.
He shouldn’t really be annoyed, he knew. She’d just made life easier for him. No awkward goodbyes or tedious chitchat over breakfast. He hadn’t even had to buy her coffee. Or a bagel. Really, he should be thanking her.
But he was still annoyed. He was the one who left, who showed women the door if he didn’t take it first. He didn’t wake up in an empty bed reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
Except three days ago he had.
And he damn well hadn’t liked the feeling. The dissatisfaction, the disappointment, the restless ache and the sexual frustration. Nope, he hadn’t liked any of that.
This wasn’t some stupid macho thing, he realized. It wasn’t just about being the one to call the shots. He wasn’t that much of an ass, even if plenty of women might think otherwise.
He just wasn’t ready to be finished with Louise. He wanted more of her. Her lush curves, her dirty laugh, her chunky glasses. And more than that; he wanted her strange mix of shyness and aggression, her unrestrained, enthusiastic response, her snappy comebacks. He wanted the whole package.
And why shouldn’t he have it?
He’d slept with women for longer than a night before. On several occasions he’d managed a whole week before he called it off. Why shouldn’t he have more with Louise?
She knew his rules, and just in case she forgot he’d make it abundantly clear that all he wanted was sex and more sex. Maybe a week’s worth.
Then they’d both move on.
It was, Jaiven decided, the perfect solution. Now he just had to decide how to go about it.
As he considered various possibilities, he scrolled through JR Shipping’s list of deliveries for the day. Besides the same-day shipping service to anywhere in North America and express service in most parts of the world, he ran a sideline, the original business he’d started as a nineteen-year-old ex-con with a beat-up van—he provided messenger services within the five boroughs.
And as he scrolled through that list, he saw that Columbia University had several deliveries scheduled for that day. He hadn’t personally handled any deliveries in well over a decade, but he might make an exception for today. For Louise. He liked the idea of surprising her while she was in her professor mode. Making her lose control. Again.
Quickly he did an internet search for Louise, saw she was an associate professor of Women’s Studies. Her office was on Amsterdam Avenue, and today she was going to get a special delivery from JR Shipping. From JR himself, actually.
Smiling, Jaiven powered off his laptop and headed out.
* * *
Louise reread the introductory paragraph of the essay she was meant to mark for the third time before finally giving up and pushing it away. She couldn’t focus, hadn’t been able to since she’d left Jaiven Rodriguez’s bed three days ago.
Wasn’t sex supposed to energize you, make you more rested and relaxed and productive? It had done the opposite for her. She’d felt edgy and restless for three days, and had stared at the ceiling most nights reliving her eight hours with Jaiven in all of its excruciating and exquisite detail.
Now that it was over she felt incredibly embarrassed by what she’d done. What kind of woman agreed to have sex in a hotel room with a stranger?
Plenty of women, probably. Maybe most of her students. But she never had. She’d had exactly two sexual partners before Jaiven. Her husband, Jack, and then briefly a boyfriend five years ago, who had been the wrong person at the wrong time. She’d still been trying to get over the train wreck of her marriage, but she hadn’t been ready to trust or love. Maybe she never would be.
And maybe she shouldn’t have thought she could handle a one-night stand. She’d wanted the oblivion of pleasure and she’d had that—for a night. But now? Now she felt a restless mix of want and guilt, unease and dissatisfaction. She still wanted Jaiven.
Not that he was beating down her door, in any case. She doubted he’d spared her so much as a thought since she’d left the hotel suite. He’d probably moved on several times since her. It had been three nights, after all.
Sighing impatiently, she turned back to the essay. Women’s individual resistance to pronatalist policies under Communist governments…
Ugh. She had no space in her brain for this. Maybe she should get out, grab a coffee or go for a walk. Clear her head, restore her equilibrium. Anything to somehow appease this aching restlessness inside her.
Unfortunately she had a feeling the only way to appease that would be another round with Jaiven, and she wasn’t willing to go there. He probably wasn’t, either.
So she’d just have to deal with it the normal way: work and exercise. Eventually she’d forget him. Her body would, too.
Restless, she checked her in-box before heading out for a coffee, surprised when an email popped in from someone named Nora Grant.
Dear Ms. Jensen, I’m writing to you about a former student of yours, Harlow Spencer. I believe you were her advisor on her senior thesis. She went to London for a law internship and has been missing for several weeks. I wondered if I could talk to you at your earliest convenience? Sincerely, Nora Grant.
Frowning, Louise recalled the young woman in question. Harlow Spencer. Tall, willowy, long chestnut hair, with a sharp mind and a surprising ambition. Louise had advised her on a thesis on sex trafficking last year, and then Harlow had left for London soon after graduation. And now she was missing? What did that mean, exactly?
Her frown deepening, she clicked Reply. Dear Nora, I’m sorry to hear about your concerns with Harlow. I’m not sure how I could be of help, but I’m happy to meet—
A quick rap on the door of her office surprised her and she looked up from her laptop.
“Special delivery.”
Department deliveries went to reception, not a hole-in-the-wall office on the second floor. “I’m not expecting a delivery,” she said as she opened the door, and then her jaw dropped because Jaiven was standing in the doorway, a parcel in his hands and a canary-eating grin on his face.
“What…” She trailed off, unable to think. He wore the dark green button-down shirt and trousers of the JR Shipping delivery guys, and a pair of beat-up work boots.
“Like I said, special delivery.” He sauntered past her into her office, which was the size of a shoe box and felt even smaller with Jaiven in it.
Louise turned to face him, her arms folded. “Why do I think you don’t usually make deliveries for the company you’re CEO of?”
“This is a special circumstance.”
“I wasn’t aware of a special circumstance.” What she was aware of, Louise thought, was how amazing Jaiven looked even in a delivery uniform, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose his powerful, brown forearms. He’d placed the package on her desk and was now leaning against it, his arms folded in front of him. How anyone could think he was a mere delivery boy for even a moment was beyond Louise. He radiated both power and charisma.
“The special circumstance,” he told her, “is that I’ve had this fantasy about sex with a certain college professor. In an office. With the door just a tiny bit open.”
Louise’s mouth dried and she shook her head instinctively. Already she could feel the need rushing through her, weakening both her resolve and her knees. “Impossible.”
“Actually, it’s not.” He straightened, walked slowly over to her and hooked a finger around her belt buckle, drew her forward a few unwilling inches. “And this outfit? Totally part of my fantasy.”
She glanced down at her tailored trousers and crisp blouse. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Just tell me you’re wearing that armored underwear again.”
She let out a huff of laughter. “Tell me you don’t actually like control-top granny pants.”
“They are seriously sexy.” Already Jaiven was unbuttoning her blouse, and she wasn’t doing a thing to stop him. The feel of his fingers against her skin felt like water when she was dying of thirst. A few drops dribbled on her lips and she wanted more. Needed more.
As he slid the last button from its hole and parted her blouse, she saw, with a blaze of shock and even excitement, that the door was more than a tiny bit open. Anyone could walk by… Anyone could see…
And somehow that just upped her desire. She never did stuff like this. And maybe she wanted to. Just once, anyway. She wanted to be reckless and wild and wanted.
“Red lace, Louise?” Jaiven glanced down at the skimpy red lace bra she’d bought in a moment of reckless shopping and never wore. “Did you know I was coming?”
“Actually, I just need to do my laundry.”
He started on her belt buckle. “Tell me you’re wearing matching pants.”
“Actually, a thong,” she said with a shaky laugh. She was incredibly embarrassed and yet also impossibly turned on. Jaiven stopped undoing her trousers to glance up at her, his eyes alight with wicked amusement.
“Seriously? You’re going to kill me here.”
“At least you’ll die happy,” she shot back, and he grinned.
“That I will.” He popped the button on her trousers and somehow she found the will to stay his hand. “Jaiven, you can’t be serious. I’m at work.”
He stuck out one foot and pushed the door so it was almost, but not quite, closed. “So?”
He tugged down the zip of her trousers and Louise groaned aloud. “So, it’s unprofessional. I could be fired. Or on the news. Or something.” Except none of that seemed to matter as Jaiven hoisted her easily in his arms and sat her down on her own desk. On top of the pile of essays she’d just been about to mark, her laptop pushed to the side.
And she knew then her protests had been tokens; she wanted this. Wanted to feel reckless and a little bit wicked. He stood between her legs and slid his hands into her hair.
“And you put your hair up. Plus you’re wearing your glasses. I’m going crazy,” he muttered, and then he kissed her.
Kissing him again felt, bizarrely and perhaps stupidly, like coming home. She remembered these lips, knew how good they made her feel. And the last of her protests scattered along with her inhibition as he slid his tongue into her mouth and his hand into her pants.
Louise rocked against him, overwhelmed by sensation. “Secretly,” Jaiven murmured as he kissed her, “you’ve always had a fantasy about getting it on in your office with a delivery boy.”
“Maybe,” Louise muttered. She couldn’t manage more than that. Jaiven was pressing against her and all she could think about was how good he had felt inside her. How much she wanted him there.
Her breathing turned jagged and she pressed back against him, needing him so much it had become a force outside of herself, or at least outside of her brain. Her body had staged a complete coup. She fumbled with the belt of his trousers, tugged at his zip.
“You’re always in such a hurry,” Jaiven murmured, and somehow she found the sense to string a few words together.
“We’re in my office.”
“And having that door open turns you on, doesn’t it?” Jaiven said as he stroked her. “Knowing you can be that shameless. That wild.”
“Yes,” Louise gasped, amazed that he had understood that about her and yet unable to say anything more. The ache inside her had become impossible to ignore or suppress. Giving in to temptation, in to him, she tugged down his trousers. He slid on a condom, and then he was inside her, and she wrapped her legs around him, burying her face in his shoulder as she bit him lightly to keep from crying out as he rode them both to a shattering climax.
They stayed locked together for a moment as their heart rates slowed, her breasts flattened against his chest, her legs wrapped around his hips, her body still joined to his.
